The Capitol's Favorite Son

Cress had been relieved from headquarters, the evening giving way to a new wave of Gamemakers who would take over through the night. But still, she stood before the screen in awe, fingers dancing across her lips, parted in admiration of her own terrible handiwork. The rich history of this arena, of these mutts, of all that was planned. It was different to see her own creations -- deadly and beautiful.

Colt had been watching the games, in the viewing room and he felt a wide smile on his face as both of his tributes for what seemed like a long time got out of the initial bloodbath. That was when he heard Cress speak up nearby, he had heard that she was apparently a Gamemaker now. Who got the games better than a victor? But why would someone who went through that suffering want to put it on other people?

Merielle shifted her weight, glancing from the struggling tribute to Colt, her expression thoughtful. "You’re not wrong," she admitted after a pause, her voice softer than before as her gaze flicked back to the tribute, who was now retrieving the dagger they’d missed with and setting up to try again "Though mentoring is a lot of saying the right thing to the right person, not so much training."

"Also a big part of mentoring is getting money for your tributes, although that part has always been really easy for me." Mostly because Colt was shameless and willing to do a lot to get money for his tributes. Colt shook his head when she said pity, "I never mentioned pity, I think instilling them with confidence is really important. I remember when I first went in as a tribute I was seen as a longshot, but then...my score, my interview people really liked me for some reason.......I think they though I was charming? Or hot? I don't know....but that confidence got me out, even if my Mentor giving it to me,....didn't actually believe in me."

"I don't think it’s even about people bein’ good or not, Colt," she pointed out. She didn’t believe in some intrinsic good in humanity, but she knew the pain of loving where you'd come from and seeing it failed over and over. Greer loved Ten— the roaring thunder of spring when rain came down in sheets. She loved when spring turned into seemingly endless summer as it was cooked into something dry and dusty under unrelenting sun. She loved the raging bonfires, and the home-brewed liquor, and the way people danced a two-step when they'd had a little too much of either. People in Ten were hard working, but they had so little to show for it. "It's the people up above 'em that're the problem. Ain't anybody ever been in charge that didn't jus' wanna get theirs and screw everybody else." People she shared blood with, people like Snow, and people like Cacus, too, as it turned out. Maybe that was a simplistic view given the war effort, but Greer couldn't bear to give the Vox the benefit of the doubt anymore.

Colt listened to Greer, not moving except for running his thumb along the palm of his hand. He was trying to pay attention, trying not to let his thoughts wander or get distracted because she was right. He knew she was right. She was making more sense than most people these days.....he felt his eyes watering up because he was sad....sad that this was the world where they lived where kids and people would get sent off to die for no reason. Finally, though, he let himself chuckle a little, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Hey! That's top shelf!" Cade protested. It actually wasn't, Cade couldn't exactly afford to foot it if he was found out, but it sounded nicer if he declared it was. And it probably tasted nicer if people thought it was the good shit, too. Dismayed, he wiped at the puddle with his foot, as though it might help clean it up. All it served to do was spread it around, doomed to become a wide, sticky arc on the concrete. "You could've just set it back down!"

Colton frowned a little when Cade told him that it was top shelf and that he should have just set it back down, but Colt hadn't been patient and thought it was water, and he needed that refreshment to even realize it was.....certainly not water. "I'm sorry, Cade.....I was just....I was thirsty....and I thought it was water.....and I didn't know it was going to be anything but water...." Hanging his head a little, he kicked his foot against the ground, "You aren't mad at me right?"

Lee caught the hat haphazardly, fumbling for a moment. Once he got it under control, he sat it atop his head, knowing no better way to store a cowboy hat. "Hate to break it to you, but I think I'm just the sane one between the two of us." He said this without irony, with someone else's cowboy hat tilted backwards on his head and a comically small cup of tea clutched in both of his hands.

Colt was shaking his head as he finished cleaning up his shirt and coat, pulling them both back on. Lips pursed, grin on his face his eyes narrow. "Nuh-uh, no way are you the sane one. We're both Victors. And nobody gets outta the games sane. Some people are just better at hiding their new quirks than others." Wrapping an arm around Lee's shoulder, he pulled him in close as they headed back out into the lobby.

"Uh huh," Liliana hummed flatly, unimpressed and not bothering to keep it off of her face. She couldn't imagine having footholds like his in this system and having no... drive. No ambition. The ladder was right there to be climbed, and Colton never even wondered who was really pulling the strings at the top? These topics preoccupied Liliana, motivated her to find more for herself.

So Colt was gathering quickly that Liliana was very much a product of the Cannon family, and District Two. The way she spoke to him, the way it sat on her face, the way she held herself as if she were better than him......people like that though, Colt felt bad for them....that they felt they had to belittle or make people feel small to feel better about themselves. But then when she talked about her family and the world she grew up in, he felt a little more sorry for her....getting why she felt she had to prove something.

Merielle leaned against the edge of the training centre, her arms loosely crossed as her eyes tracked a tribute, one she didn't recognise, struggling to land a dagger throw. The blade wobbled in the air before clattering harmlessly to the floor, closer than the previous attempts had been, but still nowhere near the target.

Colt had been watching the person struggle with throwing daggers, and he was going to jump in to help them, not that his own aim with projectiles was any better, but hey, anything to help out the tributes when he heard the voice coming from Merielle, that it felt like watching one of those old movies where you couldn't help because it would be interfering with nature. Colton shrugged,

"Training treat!" Cade announced, walking into the busy training center holding a circular, silver tray filled with shot glasses-- all filled nearly to the brim with a clear, strong-smelling liquor. What could he say? He was a saint, really, lifting the spirits of the final round of tributes being sent to their deaths, and some majorly bummed out mentors and trainers. He set it down on a nearby rolling cart, shoving a spread of knives aside, then called, "Come and get them before I'm found out by my boss!"

Colt had been working at the sparring session, and some of the tributes evidently really knew what they were doing the way they were giving him even a hard time on the mats when he heard Cade's voice and wheeling out trays of water, a massive smile on his face, Colt wiped at his brow and almost bounced over to him.

Maverick peered at him with some interest. "Well, sure, that's part of being a person," he said. "Having other people's energy feed into yours. But you're also... I mean, you're yourself, you're not anyone else. In a world like this, it's important to think for yourself too. Not just listen."

Colton nodded, and then frowned a little, not because Maverick had hurt his feelings, or made him feel bad but rather.....because when discussing this....he'd never really ever formed his own opinions without a lot of input from others, especially around like politics, the games, war....

Maverick nodded, understanding what Colt meant. "It's not really the choice I would've made," he said. "But I guess we don't have the full picture. I don't know. Alder was the one who really helped me see the other side, you know, step out of all the propaganda I grew up around."

"If the full picture painted a different story then what so many people are seeing.....I wish they would share it with us. It would just really help with....making people less angry at Vox." Colt ran his fingers through his hair, letting out a sigh. "I know Greer is really, really angry over this. I think....its feeding into my feelings? Because if the people I care about are angry, how could I not be? You know? The last time they were angry and I wasn't......I ended up being a complete ass and trusting the Capitol at what they said.....I don't think I wanna make that mistake again."

Liliana blinked at him, wondering if he was trying to goad her, or if he'd truly never thought about power ladders-- or climbing them. There wasn't a time Liliana could recall not being painfully aware of them, if perhaps because her parents were always pointing out to her where power lay, how to get there. "And who ran your slaughterhouses?" she asked with a cold patience. "Who gave the orders? Nobody? No one at all?"

Colt chuckled, he was used to this by now. People got frustrated with him, so they started to get short, condescending, and not as pleasant as when they first met him. He always handled it the same, way with a big smile and his winning personality. Maybe it wasn't him they were actually frustrated at, maybe they realized they were having a bad day, maybe they just needed someone to take it out on, and he was fine being a punching bag, after all these years he had never tried to punch back.

"Trust me dude, you're a weirdo. If not because of this, then because of any other number of things, I'm sure." Lee's point was proven as the man literally dragged him into the bathroom with him. Lee rolled his eyes, acquiescing.

"If I'm a weirdo than I hate to see what that'd make you." Looking into one of the mirrors that lined the wall, Colt pulled off his hat throwing it at Lee. "Hold that for me man." Pulling off his coat and the flannel standing there in a tank top, he started to dab at them to get the milkshake out. "So fun fact, working in the bad place I did, I learned how to get stains out pretty fast, because my ma and pa didn't really have the stuff to get them out without some work. I don't if life in Seven lead to a lot of messy clothes. Wood chips in your beard? Wait you didn't have a beard as a kid did you? I knew a kid who did, he was like 15, and boom, there it was."

What was the point? Greer had been wondering for weeks now. Everything they'd gone through just to end up back at square one. There was something to be said about the Vox breaking tributes out of the Arena, and the lives that had been spared because of it. That was personal for her, so how could that really be worth nothing in the end? And yet, here they were ready to watch another batch of tributes die in the Games, ready to bring more bodies back to Ten. "Maybe Panem really is jus' that fuckin' awful," she conceded. It was a truth she'd known all along, even if she'd let herself believe otherwise for a moment in time. It had been a misplaced hope.

Colton frowned when Greer shared the idea of the simple fact that maybe Panem really was just that awful of a place. That maybe they'd always be cursed to have leaders who don't care about them, who saw them as things to use for an end. He let out a long sigh, eyes big and doe-like in his sadness. "I just really don't want that to be true though. That Panem is just awful. I want to believe that we as a people are actually good."

Cat hummed, relieved as she drummed against the bench with her fingertips. She had no interest in deluding herself about her lack of charisma when it came to Tributes. Which was why, she was so bitter, sick to her core to be stuck back to her career as a mentor as opposed to a trainer. She could show people what to do with their bodies with much more success than get them through the emotional turmoil of the Games. Cat had only ever cared for the Tributes when they were her friends like the Berries or say, Slate.

Colton hummed, nodding his head as he listened to the problem that Cat was faced with, and he actually chuckled a little bit. "You know, that sounds a lot like Greer, and her approach to our tributes when they're overly emotional." It had always been Colton's job to deal with their tributes when they were scared or needed comfort or some sort of emotional issue, which he had never minded, having always described himself as an empath.

"Well yes, we need more than twenty-four people, but that's the thing. How many people have been pulled from the frontlines for this? How many victors, and trainers working as mentors now were actively helping fight? Tower Security, Gamemakers, people making sure the cameras, and feeds and everything are running smoothly all of them could be doing something to help with the war."